


Stolen

by kat_snow2613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, a game of thrones - Fandom
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Oral Sex, Previous Trauma, R plus L equals J, Repressed Memories, Rough Sex, but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_snow2613/pseuds/kat_snow2613
Summary: Sansa Stark was stolen by Wildlings when she was just a little girl.When Jon Snow leaves for the Night's Watch, he's determined to find his long lost sister.When he does find her, she's nothing like he expected.





	Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> This concept really deserves a more thorough development, but I wanted to at least get down the basic ideas!

  
  


When Jon Snow rode for the Wall for the first time, his head was full of delusions.  He thought of the stories of the brave men of the Night’s Watch defending the Wall from wildlings and worse. He thought of becoming a ranger like his Uncle.  And hidden, somewhere deep in his heart, he thought about finding the missing Stark girl.

 

Sansa Stark had been taken by wildlings when she was five years old. The Starks had been visiting the Umbers.  The men had gone on a hunt while the ladies enjoyed a ride.  Sansa and one of the Umber girls had raced ahead.  The afternoon had been full of laughter, until the laughter turned to screaming.  The Umber girl screamed and cried and pointed in the direction they’d taken her.   

 

Three different search parties did not find the girl.  The best hunting dogs in the North did not find the girl.  Lord Stark himself went North of the Wall, screaming his daughter’s name into the ice covered trees, begging the Gods to return her.  

 

Every few years, some ambitious merchant or hedge knight would turn up with a red haired girl about Sansa’s age, swearing it was her.  Lady Stark would take a single look at the child, and curse “That’s not my daughter,” before the knight was told never to return to Winterfell ever again.

 

After many years, hope began to fade, and life moved on without Sansa.

 

Jon buried the hope deep in his heart.  He dreamed of it over and over again.  He would find Sansa, and return her to the Starks.  His father would be so proud, proud of him as he would be one of his trueborn sons.  Even Lady Stark would be so grateful, she might even hug Jon.

 

He told himself it was silly, that the forests North of the Wall went on for ages, and there was no way of knowing where she could possibly be, or if she were even still alive.

 

So he pushed the hope down deep, and focused on his duties.

 

********

_ “Stonesnake was as fast as his namesake, leaping down on the wildlings in a rain of pebbles...On the ground the sleeper sat up beneath his furs.  Jon slid his dirk free, grabbing the man by the hair and jamming the point of the knife up under his chin as he reached for his--no, her-- _

 

_ His hand froze. A girl.” _

 

A girl.  A girl with Lady Catelynn’s eyes and Robb’s defiant jawline.  She had the same nose as Bran, and the same red hair as every Tully he’d ever met.

 

_ “‘A watcher,’ said Stonesnake. ‘A wilding.  Finish her.’” _

 

“I can’t,” Jon said.  “She’s my sister.”

 

“Sister!” Both Stonesnake and the girl scoffed.

 

“Lord Stark’s daughter was stolen by wildlings when she was just a girl.  This is her, I know it in my bones.  She’s got Lady Stark’s hair,” Jon said, still holding the girl--Sansa--by her mismatched furs.

 

“There’s plenty wildings with red hair, don’t make ‘em missing Starks,” Stonesnake said, sheathing his sword.

 

“I know it,” he said.  This close to her, he could see the freckles on her nose.  The same freckles Rickon had.  

 

“I’m not your dead sister, Crow, now get off me before I open your throat,” she said, struggling to reach for her blade. Jon kicked it away and bound her hands.  

 

“We’re taking her back to the Wall, and I’m bringing her back to Winterfell,” Jon told Stonesnake.  

 

********

Jon hated himself.  He’d gotten his brothers killed, and he and Sansa had been captured by Wildlings.  

 

Sansa--or Milly, as she called herself, brought Jon before the King Beyond the Wall.  She told a dramatic tale, recounting how her party of three had been set upon by ten crows.  They fought bravely but the two men had died and Jon had stolen Milly.  She then said that Jon had insisted she was his sister.  The tent erupted with laughter, and the King laughed with them, but Jon knew he saw tension in the King’s eyes.

 

“Har!” A large man with gold bands on his arms and a wild beard laughed loudest.  He’s afraid to lay with you so he said you’re his sister!  Must be he can’t find his member anymore!”

 

“Don’t worry,” Milly said, with a glint in her eye.  “I’ll help him find it.”

 

They were alone in a tent, Milly trying to find him furs that would help him blend into the wildling camp.  Jon grabbed her hands.

 

“Sansa, you have to listen to me,” he said.

 

“My name is Milly, or can’t Crows hear?” she spat.  He looked at her.  In all of his dreams about finding Sansa, he never dreamed she’d become so beautiful.

 

“Fine, Milly,” he said.  “Your real father is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.  Your mother is Catelyn Tully, a daughter of Riverrun.  You were stolen by wildlings when you were just a little girl.”

 

“I wasn’t stolen by Wildlings--I am a woman of the free folk.  Not some weak little girl who dances in silk dresses,” she said resentfully.  She handed Jon some furs that were a rich brown color.  He pulled them on over his blacks.

 

“Fine, then who are your parents?  Take me to them, so I can see your face in theirs, as I see Lady Stark in this very moment,” he said.  It was true.  She had the same look on her face Lady Stark wore when she yelled at Bran to get down from whatever tower he’d climbed.

 

“They died when I was a babe.  Life’s a bit rougher up here than down in your fancy castles,” she said.

 

“Fine.  Then show me your brothers, your cousins, your uncles.  Surely you must have some kin,” Jon demanded.  

 

“None that I know of,” she said.  “It doesn’t matter.  My clan is my kin.  We take care of each other.”

 

“No kin to speak of?  Your mother had no sisters, your father had no brothers?  No one who would look after you once they died?  Seems a bit strange, doesn’t it?” Jon said determinedly.

 

“I don’t know, you stupid Crow.  Like I said, life’s harder up here.  People die all the time. But I’m a free folk, and you better shut your damn Crow mouth before I knock some of your pretty teeth out,” she said before she stormed out of the tent.  

 

*********

 

For the next few weeks Jon did his best to adapt to the Wildling life.  He walked on a thin line between telling Mance Rayder enough to prove his loyalty, and still hopefully keep his brothers safe.  

 

After their fight in the tent Milly found him by the fire.  She said she understood how he felt. She told a story of a young mother who lost a little blond haired girl in a storm.  Every few years, she’d find a girl of the same age her daughter would have been, and would try to convince everyone it was her.  They all pitied the poor thing.  She understood how Jon, so far away from anything he knew, would try to find some part of home.  

 

She then took his hand and explained that she was not his sister, but she was his woman.  Jon felt a strange feeling deep in his stomach, and his blood warmed despite the freezing wind.  

 

That night was the first night Milly climbed into his tent.  The tent was small for one person, with two people, there was no room at all.  She didn’t seem to mind the cramped space and crawled under his furs.  She wiggled out of her clothes.  

 

She pulled Jon’s hands to her breasts.  He wanted so badly to resist.  

 

“Sansa, no,” he protested.

 

“Milly, my name is Milly, and I’m your woman,” she said as she climbed on top of him, his hardened cock slipping easily inside of her.

 

“Milly,” he agreed, cupping her ass as she rode him.  

 

She leaned down and kissed him, their tongues meeting in a gentle dance that grew hungry.  He reached up and pulled on her red hair.  She moaned, encouraging him.  He flipped her over onto her back and climbed on top of her.  He thrust into her, holding her tightly to him.  He broke his vow to the Night’s Watch, and his family.  He broke his vows, over and over again, with each thrust, with each kiss against her soft neck. What did vows matter when Milly cried out for him, wanting him, needing him, like no one had ever needed him before?  He took her breast in his mouth, and the cry she made ended it for him.  He spilled hard, thrusting into her.  He lay still on top of her.  

 

“I’m your woman, Jon Snow,” she whispered into his ear.  

 

“Yes, you are,” he said, kissing her deeply.

 

*********

 

At first, Jon could barely live with the guilt.  He was breaking his vows, with his sister.  It was one sin on top of the other.  He knew the Targaryens had married their siblings for years, but he was a Stark, not a Targaryen.  He was supposed to rescue Sansa, not fuck her.  But every night that she slipped into his furs, her breath was warm against his skin.  Every night that his fingers groped between her legs, he found her wet.  

 

It wasn’t just their nights together.  They would walk together during the days.  She would tell him the stories of freefolk, their myths and legends.  She would point out plants he’d never seen before.  She showed him out to survive in this frozen forest.  They would often hunt.  She was skilled with a bow, and could easily kill and skin a hare.  Jon wondered what Lady Stark would think, to see her daughter hunting.  

 

Perhaps Milly was right.  Maybe she wasn’t Sansa at all.  Perhaps she was just a woman of the free folk.  There were lots of girls with red hair.  Jon had been desperate to prove himself to the Starks his whole life, and just like those ambitious knights, he just decided that the first red haired girl he found north of the Wall was his long lost sister.

 

The thought comforted him that night as he buried his face between Milly’s legs.  He sucked on her flesh, in particular the hard knot she seemed to like so much.  He slipped his finger inside of her, so that he was pressing on either side of her.  She shouted so loud he had to reach up to cover her mouth.  She rocked her hips back and forth and finally lay still.

 

He wasted no time in climbing up her body and slipping inside of her.  She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him, taking in her own taste.  

 

“I like it when you do that,” she murmured, spreading her legs further for him.  

 

“Tell me what else you like,” he whispered against her skin, giving her a small bite.

 

“Mmm, when you do that, that’s nice.  And when you pull my hair,” she said, as Jon reached up to clutch her red locks.  She moaned in appreciation. “I like it when you fuck me, Jon,” she said as she began to lose her breath again.  

 

Jon needed little encouragement to thrust into her even harder.  She begged for more and he happily gave it, until the slide of her wet skin was too much and came, hard.  He cupped her face.  

 

“I love you, Milly,” he said, looking into her perfectly blue eyes.  Her eyes.  No one else’s.  She looked surprised.  

 

“You mean it?  No matter what, you mean it?” she asked.  He nodded.  Relief flooded her face.  She kissed him and told him that she loved him.

 

*********

Jon was falling asleep, Milly laying on his chest.  She’d been still for some time, so he was surprised to hear her voice, soft and quiet in the dark.  “Jon?”

 

“Hmm?” he mumbled through his fatigue.  

 

“Sometimes I have dreams,” she began.  

 

“We all have dreams, my love,” he mumbled, wanting to fall back to sleep.

 

“My dreams are different,” she said.  

 

“How so?” he asked, running his fingers over her skin.  

 

“Jon...in my dreams, I see stone towers.  They’re so tall Jon, higher than a man could ever build.  There are so many towers in my dreams. They must have been built by gods.  Stone walls too, whole rooms made of stone.” she said, her voice filled with awe.  Jon stayed quiet, letting her continue.

 

“In my dreams Jon, I’m never cold.  Everything is so warm.  Even the stone walls are warm.  How can stone walls be warm?” she asked, sadness creeping into her voice.  He wanted so badly to answer a hundred questions for her, to tell her about hot water being pumped through the walls built by masons.  He just lay quiet. 

 

“I have a dream where I’m inside, but I can still see outside, except everything is shiny.  There are plants, and it’s so warm, and the plants smell so sweet.  There’s all kinds of flowers, every color you’ve ever seen, but the best ones are the blue roses,” she said, her voice stayed strong despite the sadness. Jon could see the glass gardens in his mind, how sunlight poured through the glass, making everything glow.

 

“And Jon, I have a dream where I’m with another little girl.  She’s so skinny, and she’s got dark hair.  We’re in a big...copper...it’s like a pot, but bigger,” she said.  Jon’s heart lept at the mention of Arya.  “And it’s filled with hot water, and we’re splashing, and we splash until there’s almost no water left.  And a woman comes in and sees us, and I know she’s mad, but I also know she loves us.  She loves us, doesn’t she, Jon?” she asked, her voice finally cracking.  He could feel her tears on his chest.

 

“She loves you so much, you can’t imagine,” he said.

 

Jon closed his eyes.  He could see the copper tub that Catelyn had brought from Riverrun.  She’d bathed all of her children in that tub.  It was still in her chamber in Winterfell.  Some smith had stamped the edges of it with an intricate design.  

 

“There’s flowers on the edge of the tub,” Jon said.  He could feel her nod against him.  

 

“Yes, little flowers.  The girl in the tub likes to press against them, and it leaves the mark of the flower on her skin,” she remembered.  Jon couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the memory.

 

“She’s my sister, isn’t she?” she said sadly.

 

“Her name is Arya,” Jon said, missing her so much his chest hurt.

 

“Arya,” Milly tried the sound out.  It was strange on her tongue.

 

“They’re not dreams, are they Jon?  They’re memories….they’re my memories of my family,” she asked, holding onto him.

 

“Yes,” his body flooded with so many conflicted feelings.  

 

He wanted to encourage her to remember everything she could.  Except for him, he prayed she would not remember her dark haired half brother.  It was selfish--perhaps if she couldn’t remember him, she’d keep him as her lover.    

 

“What else do you remember, my love?”

 

“It’s just bits and pieces, here and there,” she admitted.

 

“Like what,” he encouraged.  

 

“There’s a fire inside of the stone wall, and there’s a man sitting in front of it, with a little boy on his lap, and he’s telling a story...I can’t remember the story though.  And I remember...I don’t know the word but there are so many people inside the same room, and there’s candles, and music, and so much food.  So much food I can’t eat it all, except I still manage to eat these yellow cakes,” she said. 

 

“And I remember...a baby.  I think he was a boy.  A little thing, with big blue eyes and red hair,”

 

“Bran was just a baby when you were stolen,” Jon said.  “Do you remember anything about that?”

 

“I remember a man getting on my horse, he said my father sent him to get me.  And then the horse was running so fast I was afraid I’d fall off.  I think we got into a boat.  I just remember being scared,” she said.

 

“We looked for you.  With hounds and horses--” he began.

 

“No, Jon,” she stopped him.  “I don’t want to hear about all that.  Tell me happy things.  Tell me about my family.”

 

“Your father is Lord Eddard, but your mother calls him Ned, and he calls her Cat.  He’s the most honorable man there is.  Your mother is very pretty, everyone says so.  Robb is the oldest, the heir to Winterfell.  He takes after your mother’s family.  You all do, except for Arya, she’s got the Stark look.  She’s fierce and stubborn.  Then there’s Bran, he gets along with everyone.  He can climb anything.  Except,” Jon stopped himself.  He realized he didn’t have the heart to tell her about Bran’s fall.  

 

“Except your mother is always yelling at him to get down.  Then there’s the youngest, Rickon, he was only three when I left for the wall.  He loves it when you toss him in the air and catch him,” Jon said, missing all of his siblings.  

 

“Are you my brother?” she asked.  The question hung in the air.  He wanted to make up some story.  He wanted to claim he was a distant cousin or a ward.  He wanted to say anything but the truth. She was still a wilding, and there was little to stop her from putting a knife in his belly when he told her he’d allowed her to engage in incest. 

 

“Half brother.  I’m Lord Stark’s bastard,” he said.  

 

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she said.

 

Jon was stunned.  “I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

 

He could feel her shoulders shrug.  “You said he was the most honorable man there is.  I know the Kneelers like to go on and on about about all their vows, dying to defend their vows and all.  Doesn’t sound like the type of man to break a vow for a roll in the furs,” she said, pulling their own furs tighter around them.

 

Jon wasn’t sure what she meant.  There was no reason for Ned to raise him if he wasn’t truly his son.  Sansa just didn’t understand the ways of the Seven Kingdom.  He didn’t see a reason to press the point so he changed the subject.  

 

“What made you remember all of this?” he asked, stroking her hair.  

 

“You,” she said.  “Maybe it’s the way you talk, or the way you look.  You reminded me of something deep inside me, something I buried and pushed away,” she said, holding him.  

 

“I dreamed of finding you since the day you went missing,” he admitted.

 

“I’m glad you did,” she said.  Her voice changed suddenly.  “Jon, we can’t let anyone know about this.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” he agreed.  If Mance got wind of this, Jon would be dead in the time it took for the King to reach for his sword.

 

Sansa yawned and began to grow still in his arms.  Jon considered his situation.  Alone, in the wilderness, surrounded by thousands of wildlings, with his trueborn sister sleeping naked on his chest.  How many vows had he broken to find himself like this?

 

He closed his eyes and made one vow that he would keep, no matter what.

 

He would bring Sansa home.

  
  
  



End file.
